


as you end what you’ve begun, you’ll lie patient by her side

by mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday)



Series: darillium baby [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Library Fix-It, in which i've been bullied into writing a sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-10 23:54:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5605792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrinneyFriday/pseuds/mygalfriday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I didn’t save her because I can’t. I’ve learned my lesson. Some things can’t be changed.”</p><p>Raven pushes away her plate and stands quickly, staring down at him with tears in her eyes and determination in her hearts. “Well I haven’t learned that lesson yet. And I’m not willing to take your word for it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i was too young to understand

**Author's Note:**

> Story title and chapter titles from Above the Clouds of Pompeii by Bear’s Den. 
> 
> Sequel to 'into the light of the dark black night'. Many thanks to Bree for being such a lovely help during the brainstorming for this:)

She misses Mummy. She misses home and starlight and her father’s laughter but mostly, she misses Mummy. She misses gentle hands braiding her hair and teaching her the proper way to hold a blaster. She misses her Mummy’s breakfast specialty of Sontaran waffles and her bedtime stories with all the funny voices.

 

It’s been a month since Mummy left to go to the Library, a month since her father had swept her away to this new planet and the people with the strange robes and headdresses. The suns are warm on her face and the Academy is filled with friends and new things to learn but Raven has never felt so lonely, so in the dark. Darillium had been dark but Mummy, she thinks, was bright enough to be the sun there. Without her, the world seems dim and cold and a bit like her room when Daddy forgets to turn on her nightlight.

 

Daddy forgets a lot of things now. He tries but Raven thinks Mummy must have been his reminder to keep going because he can’t seem to figure out how to without her. She does her best to fill her mother’s shoes, to do what her mother had always done when Daddy grew melancholy but Raven getting into trouble doesn’t make him laugh. It makes him angry and white-faced, makes his grip on her too tight like she’ll go away the way Mummy did. Raven stops trying to be his reminder.

 

When she isn’t in her classes, she plays outside in the trees behind their home. It’s a whole forest of silver and even Daddy had been happy to see them when they’d arrived. He’d taken her by the hand and tugged her gently along through the trees until they’d been surrounded by them. Daddy had scooped her up and they’d watched the sunrise change the leaves to the deepest red. It’s where she goes now when she misses Mummy. It smells like her out here. Mummy had smelled like Gallifrey. She wonders if that’s why Daddy hardly ever ventures outside.

 

As much as he seems to miss Mummy, he doesn’t seem to want to be reminded of her, but Raven will do anything to feel closer to her mother. Even if that means climbing the tallest tree in the forest and plucking silver leaves from it. She likes to tuck them under her pillow and dream of home on Darillium. She’s nearly at the top now, teetering on her tiptoes and stretching for the next branch. One strong wind could send her toppling but Raven loves it. Daddy always grouses she’s too much like Mummy but secretly, she thinks it must please him because he always says it with a smile.

 

She stifles a grin and stretches a little higher.

 

“Careful, poppet,” comes a disinterested, feminine voice with Daddy’s accent. It’s coming from somewhere below. “Papa Bear will have a tantrum if you fall to a new regeneration.”

 

Frozen, Raven peers through the branches and leaves to the ground below. A small woman with dark hair pinned primly away from her face gazes up at her, leaning casually against the tree. Her clothes are strange and not at all like the red robes everyone else seems to wear. This woman is wearing old-fashioned human clothes in purple. Intrigued instantly, Raven gives her a frown. “Who are you?”

 

The woman smiles and even from above, Raven can see the cruel curl of her red lips. “A very old friend of the Doctor’s. That’s your Papa, isn’t it?”

 

She nods slowly. “Daddy doesn’t have any friends here. He says they’re all…” Her brow furrows. What had he called them? Oh, yes – “Stuck-up twats.”

 

The strange woman snorts and calls up, “You kiss your Mummy with that mouth, pet?”

 

Raven flinches and looks away, scowling at the tree branch she’s clinging to. It quivers in her grasp and she grumbles, scratching at it with her fingernails and sending flakes of bark scattering. “I don’t have a Mummy,” she mumbles. Instantly, she wants to collect the words and shove them back into her mouth, swallow them up tight. She does have a Mummy. It isn’t Mummy’s fault she isn’t here anymore. Raven blinks away the water in her eyes and sniffs, wondering what Daddy would think if he’d heard her.

 

Oblivious to her guilt, the woman on the ground sighs loudly and says, “Be a good girl and climb down to chat, dear. Shouting is for humans and those about to be brutally murdered – and even then, manners are important.”

 

Wary of her bright, sharp grin but carrying far too much of what Mummy used to call _The Doctor gene_ , Raven abandons her branch and begins the arduous climb back down. The woman waits for her with her arms crossed and her booted foot tapping delicately against the ground, a patient, serene expression on her face. Once Raven drops to the ground and lands in a crouch, peering up at her, she can see the faintest hint of mania lurking in her gaze. It makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

 

She swallows and steps closer. “I’m Raven. You know my Daddy?”

 

“Missy.” The woman holds out her hand and Raven shakes it, eyeing her sharp red nails. “We’re old school chums.”

 

“Did you go to the Academy too?”

 

“That’s right, poppet. We go way back.” Missy pats her hand and leads her along. Since they seem to be heading in the direction of home, Raven follows. “Now, what’s a wee thing like you doing out here by your lonesome, hm?”

 

Shrugging, Raven studies her feet as she walks. Her heavy boots crunch branches and leaves underfoot – they’re the sturdy kind Mummy had insisted on for running and kicking people. Missy’s boots are dainty by comparison, with the kind of heel that would click if they were on sturdier ground.

 

Missy hums. “What kind of rubbish Mum and Dad let you wander off? Already knew the Doctor was pants at being a father but I thought the eyebrows might give him a bit of sense. Then again, he did procreate with the hybrid -”

 

“What’s a hybrid?”

 

“The half-breed womb from which you sprouted, sprog.” Missy curls her lip and eyes her like it’s an insult. “Where is your mummy, anyway? Bugger off to marry Hitler?”

 

“Mummy’s dead,” Raven whispers, her voice wavering. It’s the first time she’s said it out loud and she can feel her cheeks flushing and her eyes filling up. She blinks the tears away but they keep coming back and she sniffles, chin quivering. “She’s dead. Daddy said he saved her but I can’t see her in the Library so it doesn’t count and she’s _dead_.”

 

For a moment, Missy stands frozen and gaping, watching Raven fall apart right in front of her. And then something flickers in her eyes and she sighs, bending to coo at Raven half-heartedly. She reaches out a hand and pats her on the head awkwardly, like the very sight of emotion makes her squeamish. It’s still the first feminine touch Raven has felt since Mummy and she crumbles into it, wrapping her arms around Missy and clinging to her.

 

Missy gasps and stiffens like she’s been stabbed but Raven doesn’t let go, burying her face in the woman’s purple coat and sobbing. “Oh good heavens, you’re going to get snot all over my -” Missy sighs and pats her again. Raven sniffs. Missy smells like gunpowder and blood and Jasmine tea. She doesn’t smell anything like Mummy. “Alright, stop that. Stop _leaking_.”

 

Raven nods hurriedly and steps away, wiping at her face.

 

Still looking rattled, Missy stands quickly and dusts herself off. “Well,” she says, touching her hair like Raven might have mussed it. “Sorry about your dead mum but do that again and I’ll help you join her, pet. Are we clear?”

 

Raven nods again, not quite sure if she’s serious but not willing to bet her life on it.

 

Satisfied, Missy straightens her coat and nods once. “Good. Now…” Her eyes gleam. “Tell me about this library.”

 

-

 

It’s her first day as a member of the high council and Raven is already plotting to get rid of the damned robe. It’s hideous, does nothing for her shape, and it’s _red_. She feels like a ruddy outer space version of Father Christmas.

 

Grumbling to herself, she gathers the skirt of her ensemble in her hands so she doesn’t trip and paces around her office again, contemplating a campaign. Maybe if she votes to eradicate them, the people will rally behind her. She’ll start a new world order, where the supreme beings of the sodding universe can wear whatever the hell they like.

 

She stops in the middle of the room, plucks at the shapeless garment, and pouts. Mum would have just altered it – made it scandalous and beautiful, and worn it with confidence. She’d been good at that. Raven doesn’t have her audacity, as much as she wishes she did. She has her father’s quiet rebellion. And his salty mouth. So she’ll wear the robes with a bad attitude and plot to throw the damn thing into a supernova at the earliest opportunity. But until then – she has a job to do.

 

“Knock, knock.”

 

She glances toward the door and smiles. “Aunt Missy, what a surprise. I didn’t expect you to assault your way past security until teatime. Come in then.”

 

Tucking something sharp and bloodied into her bodice – what Raven can only assume helped her bully her way inside – Missy smiles and slinks in, shutting the door behind her. “Don’t be cross. I wanted you to have your gift.”

 

Raven frowns and leaves Missy to poke suspiciously at a picture of River on the mantle to round her desk and sink into her chair. The sodding robe billows around her like the Red Sea. “You got me a gift?”

 

“Baby’s first poison lipstick.” Missy produces it with a flourish, looking as proud of herself as if she’d brought a potted plant for the desk instead. “Red, of course. To match the robes.”

 

Used to her unconventional gifts by now, Raven laughs and takes it from her with a murmur of thanks, tucking it safely away into a desk drawer. “What did I do to deserve charity from you? You’re in an awfully good mood. Step on a puppy? Slit the throat of a small child on your way over?”

 

“No, they were too quick,” she says glumly.

 

“The puppy?”

 

Missy blinks, frowning. “The child.”

 

Raven snorts.

 

“And the gift is just a gift. A sort of Congratulations On Realizing Your Full Potential Unlike Your Useless Father gift.” Missy sinks into a chair with a serene smile. “Well done, pet.”

 

Rolling her eyes, Raven laughs. “Don’t be so hard on Dad. He’s saved the world plenty of times – including this one.”

 

Missy makes a face, sticking out her tongue. “Yes well, it’s about to need saving again and where is he? Probably off dyeing his roots and writing poetry to his dead wife.”

 

“Watch your mouth, Aunt Missy,” Raven says sharply.

 

Missy pouts and puts her feet up on the desk. “I’m only suggesting if he misses her _oh so terribly much_ he should just save her and stop being a mopey sod about it.”

 

“Yes,” Raven says dryly. “As if it’s that easy to pluck the one you love from death.”

 

Pursing her lips, Missy shrugs and helps herself to the paperweight on the table. “He’s done it before.”

 

Raven stares, watching her honorary, reluctant aunt test the weight of the object in her hand, as if judging how much damage it would do if she threw it. “What?”

 

“Why, Clara Oswald, of course.” Missy sets aside the paperweight and folds her hands in her lap, her manic blue eyes narrowed and glittering. “The little human he broke time to save.”

 

She shakes her head, frowning. “No, you’ve heard the story wrong. Mum broke time to save Dad. It’s how they got married. Well, the first time.”

 

“And yet when it was her turn to die he just let her go.” Missy raises an eyebrow, humming to herself. “Clara Oswald. You should ask the Eyebrows about her.”

 

It would be stupid, Raven thinks later that evening, in the middle of dinner with her father, to take Aunt Missy at her word. She has grown up with the woman and she knows better than anyone what a self-serving liar she can be. She’s also more than a little mad and has totally disregarded the safety of her little charge quite often through Raven’s childhood. Her father had nearly strangled her on a number of occasions, including one of her birthday parties where Missy had replaced the candles in the cake with miniature explosives for a laugh. Raven had been too delighted with licking icing off the walls to care about her ruined cake or the hole in the ceiling. And the sight of her giggling had softened the Doctor almost instantly.

 

Raven sips her wine and eyes her father over her glass, watching him poke at his vegetables like he doesn’t quite trust them. It would be stupid to trust Aunt Missy. The thought of this Clara, however, will not leave her mind and hasn’t since Missy’s visit earlier that day in her office. So she clears her throat and waits for her father to look up.

 

He glances at her. “Are you actually eating this? Who taught you to like carrots? It certainly wasn’t me.”

 

“All the better to see you with, Dad,” she says, and chomps on one with relish just to watch him recoil. “They gave me an office today.”

 

He makes a face at that, as impressed by her new government position as he’d been with her mother’s chosen profession. Still, she can detect the faintest hint of pride in his blue eyes and it thrills her. “Is it big enough to move about in those robes?”

 

“Only nearly.” She laughs, spearing another carrot slice. “You were right about them – I thought I was going to drown in it. Is that why you ran away?”

 

“Yes,” he says, raising an eyebrow at her. “I’m very against dress codes.”

 

She stifles a giggle, suddenly very sure that Missy is an abominable liar. “Aunt Missy came to see me. Gave me a poisoned lipstick as a congratulations present.”

 

The Doctor stills at that, his fork hovering over his plate and his eyes suddenly distant. His lips purse and for a moment Raven worries he’s going to retreat into his grief again. He still does sometimes, going quiet for days on end and keeping to himself. It had scared her in her childhood but now it only makes her want to wrap him in her arms and hold him until they both stop missing what is never going to come back. Finally, he lowers his fork to his plate and clears his throat, forcing a little smile. “Your mother had a hallucinogenic lipstick. Used it to convince people she was Cleopatra and Marilyn Monroe and technically every member of the Spice Girls.”

 

Raven beams at him, relieved and ever eager for another of his memories of River. “Do you think she would have let me use it?”

 

“Oh, undoubtedly,” the Doctor muses, eyes crinkling. “I’d imagine you’d have had your own by your fiftieth birthday.”

 

“As opposed to the atomic bomb assembly kit I got from Aunt Missy,” she mutters, smiling at him to hide the ache in her chest. As a Time Lady, her memories of her mother are nearly perfect and while she’s grateful that she hasn’t forgotten her scent or the feel of her hands wiping away tears, it makes it rather difficult to move on. The grief is always fresh. She can’t imagine how her father stands it. “Anyway, she mentioned someone to me. Clara Oswald.”

 

He falters at that, glancing up at her with a frown. “What about her?”

 

“She said you destroyed time to save her from death. Is it true?” Raven watches his face carefully and sees the moment his eyes flicker that for once, Aunt Missy hadn’t been lying. Her hand curls tight around her fork and she shakes her head, huffing tearfully as her eyes begin to water. “A companion? You broke time to save a companion but your wife you just – _left_?”

 

The Doctor looks pained, glancing away from her with a sigh. “Missy,” he says through his teeth, dragging a tired hand over his face. “I’ve told you to stop talking to her.”

 

“I _like_ her,” Raven says, lifting her chin.

 

“She’s a bloody madwoman,” he snaps. “A psychopath.”

 

“What?” She narrows her eyes. “Like Mum?”

 

He slams a hand against the table so hard it nearly upends his wine glass. Raven jumps, staring at him in wide-eyed silence. He sags back into his chair and shuts his eyes. When he speaks, his voice isn’t as angry as she’d expected. Instead, he sounds tired and full of the same longing she feels every day. “That woman is _nothing_ like River Song. Don’t you dare dishonor her memory by comparing them.”

 

“I’m not comparing them. Of course she isn’t Mum. No one ever could be,” she snaps, wiping angrily at her cheek. “And even if they could, Aunt Missy would be a pretty shit place to start. But she was right – you tried to save some human girl and you just let Mum go off to her death like it didn’t bloody matter. And I know that isn’t true because I’ve watched you hide away from the universe in this damned house my whole life -”

 

His mouth twitches and he opens his eyes to regard her wearily. “Don’t swear.”

 

She glares. “You first, Kettle.”

 

He sighs, growing somber once more. “Raven,” he begins gently. “No one wishes your mother could have been saved more than I do. If I could have found a way around it without wrecking time, I would have -”

 

“Did you even try? Or did you just wave goodbye and scarper off with her daughter in your time machine?”

 

“ _Don’t_ ,” he snaps, and she looks away. That had been over the line and she knows it but she’ll sit here until her next regeneration before she admits it. “You have no idea how long I have been grieving that woman or what I would have done to keep her with me. If I could have traded places with her I would have. I would give anything to be there right now in her place.” He looks at her helplessly, her wide-eyed and Scottish dad, the lovable grump who had raised her, and Raven wishes she had never brought any of this up at all, but it’s far too late to take any of it back. “I didn’t save her because I can’t. I’ve learned my lesson. Some things can’t be changed.”

 

Raven pushes away her plate and stands quickly, staring down at him with tears in her eyes and determination in her hearts. “Well I haven’t learned that lesson yet. And I’m not willing to take your word for it.”

 

He blinks at her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

 

“It means I’m going to do what you couldn’t – or wouldn’t.” She turns on her heel and begins stalking toward the door, calling over her shoulder. “I’m going to save Mum.”


	2. above the clouds, above the skies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With centuries spent rereading her diary when she was alive and another several dreaming the events over and over, she would have to be an idiot not to notice when the words begin to change. At first it’s only small differences, a word here or there. The Doctor doesn’t kiss her when he should, Raven stops giggling. Before she knows it, there are whole entries in her diary that aren’t quite how she remembers them. Someone is trying to get her attention. So River gives it to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Above the Clouds of Pompeii by Bear’s Den.

In the Library, River sleeps. It isn’t the sleep she’d had before, when she’d been alive. It’s rather more complicated now that she’s merely a consciousness trapped in a computer. Sleeping in the Library is like crawling into a book and using the pages as a blanket. She chooses her diary, because it means she’ll dream of them – her Doctor and her little girl.

 

With centuries spent rereading her diary when she was alive and another several dreaming the events over and over, she would have to be an idiot not to notice when the words begin to change. At first it’s only small differences, a word here or there. The Doctor doesn’t kiss her when he should, Raven stops giggling. Before she knows it, there are whole entries in her diary that aren’t quite how she remembers them.

 

Someone is trying to get her attention. So River gives it to them.

 

The moment she does, she stops dreaming of anything at all but Raven guiding her to the bookshelf in her nursery. Over and over. Her hand small and warm in River’s, she presses her fingertips over the bindings of Velveteen Rabbit and Harry Potter and Every Gallifreyan Child’s Pop-Up Book of Nasty Creatures From Other Dimensions. Raven lingers on the latter, her blue eyes lighting up as she says, “This one, Mummy!”

 

Her voice isn’t the small, little girl voice River remembers. It’s older, softer, with the hard edge of determination that reminds River of herself. She knows, with a mother’s intuition she’d never even realized she had, that the voice still belongs to Raven. Wherever she is, she’s all grown up.

 

She follows her little girl’s guiding hand and picks up the book. The moment she does, it teleports her inside and somehow, Raven is still with her, holding her hand. River looks at her askance. “What now then, little bird?”

 

Grinning at the old nickname, Raven says, “Look for clues.”

 

It becomes a game, like the scavenger hunts she used to create for Raven, except what used to be _use your trowel to dig in the sand for Daddy’s old fez_ becomes _fight your way past four-headed creatures with no eyes and sharp teeth_. She finds safety and her next clue in the bibliography at the end.

 

Encyclopedia Gallifreya.

 

She doesn’t even have to wonder what her next clue will be here. Still clinging to Raven’s little hand, River skips to the section on the Doctor and begins to have a look around. She feels a bit like Gretel following the trail of breadcrumbs but for the first time since she entered this computerized afterlife, she has no idea what’s going to happen next. She’s _missed_ that feeling.

 

Raven says nothing when she stumbles upon the next clue but River knows this is the book she’s supposed to jump into. No sane person would ever upload The History of the Time War to the biggest library in the universe. It contains information too powerful. It shouldn’t be here. It can’t be here. But it is. And as Raven’s little hand tightens around her own, River knows she has to step into it.

 

She glances at her daughter, who gazes back at her with a lopsided grin, and nods once grimly. “Alright,” she mutters. “But if you’re just a virus with my daughter’s face, you are _so_ grounded.”

 

Without a moment’s hesitation – she’s already dead, what else is there to be afraid of? – River takes the plunge and dives between the pages of the Time War. The moment she does, she knows it isn’t a book at all. It never was. Raven is gone now and so is everything else. For one, breathless moment she is suspended weightless and bodiless in a long stretch of data code. She can’t see or breathe or feel. She is nothing but numbers.

 

And then comes the sharp rush of a transporter, the whirring whoosh of particles meeting and joining together, the cold shock of breath slamming back into her body. She has a _body_. Her knees hit the floor – where had the floor come from? – and River crumples, gasping for air with lungs that burn. It feels like regeneration, like being reborn and taking her first breath all over again. Her eyes stream and she gasps, clawing at the floor weakly.

 

“Shhh.” A warm, familiar voice – the voice from the Library, _Raven_ – fills her ears as gentle arms encircle her and gather her close. “It’ll pass, Mum. Stop fighting it.” Lips brush her temple and River shakes uncontrollably, her whole body shivering. “Deep breaths. Shhh, you’re safe. We did it.”

 

We?

 

Even half-conscious and nearly seizing, River looks wildly around for the Doctor but there is no one. Only the young woman who must be Raven and – _there_ , someone else approaching. Someone with feverish eyes and a chilling smirk. Her blood runs cold and River moves to shield her daughter but her limbs are sluggish and heavy. Raven holds her tighter and beams up at the strange woman, awe in her voice as she repeats, “We _did_ it.”

 

“Told you, poppet. Missy knows best.” The soft swish of purple skirts coming into view is the last thing River sees before she slumps forward into the warmth of her daughter’s embrace and knows nothing else.

 

-

 

The shivering has stopped when she wakes an indeterminate amount of time later, piled snugly under a mountain of blankets in a cozy bed. A roaring fire glows with warmth across the room. River breathes in cautiously, relieved to discover it doesn’t hurt anymore. That done, she moves on to her next order of business – figuring out where the hell she is.

 

It doesn’t take her long. One of her hands is enclosed in a vice-like grip and a quick glance to her right shows her the Doctor slumped against the side of the bed, staring at her like if he so much as blinks she’ll dissolve into mist. River inhales sharply, staring right back. After centuries of seeing him in her dreams, she has to ask. “Are you… real?”

 

The Doctor flinches at that, finally dropping his gaze to their joined hands. “I think so. Haven’t felt this alive in years.” He forces a little smile and looks at her again, his thumb gliding softly over the back of her hand. “But you’re not in the Library any longer, if that’s what you’re asking.”

 

“Where am I then?”

 

His smile grows, less cautious now. “Home. Gallifrey.”

 

River shakes her head, unwilling to believe it could even be possible. She gave up on escaping and returning to her family a long time ago. “How?”

 

The Doctor traces his fingertips over her knuckles, along her wrist, lingering at her inner elbow and drawing patterns into her skin – like he can’t quite bring himself to stop touching her. He’s come a long way from _stop holding my hand_ , she thinks fondly. “You’ll have to ask the mastermind,” he says, nodding toward the other side of the bed. “She hasn’t explained herself yet.”

 

Turning quickly, River finds herself staring at her daughter. She’s curled up on the edge of the bed and fast asleep, her dark curls slipping into her eyes. She has her father’s nose and her mother’s mouth, Amy Pond’s chin. River laughs softly and the sound comes out more like a sob. Her eyes fill up and she reaches out a tentative hand to brush back Raven’s hair. “Look at her,” she breathes. “She’s beautiful.”

 

“Like her mother.”

 

She smiles, turning her head to look at him once more. “Cleverer than either of us, apparently.”

 

“Can’t say that I mind,” he mutters, and kisses her hand. His eyes linger on her face and she hears him swallow. “She’s been rather cross with me. Couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t save you. But I couldn’t risk it. If I rewrote one line, if I forgot you-” He shakes his head, expression pinched and desperate for understanding. “River, I -”

 

“Oh, darling. I know.” She slips her hand from his grip to stroke her knuckles over his cheek. “I always know.”

 

“Course you do.” He wraps his fingers around her wrist and holds her hand against him, turning his face into her palm. When he’s composed himself, he asks roughly, “How’re you feeling?”

 

“Better.” At his skeptical frown, she rolls her eyes. “Really, sweetie. Just tired.”

 

“You need more rest. Not easy coming back from the dead, you know.” She gasps, automatically reaching up to touch her hair. The Doctor smiles as she plucks at a curl. “Still the same body, dear.”

 

She relaxes back against her pillows and asks, “Disappointed?”

 

Eyes crinkling, he murmurs, “Wait until you’re better and I’ll show you.”

 

River laughs and the sound disturbs the sleeping girl beside her. She jolts awake so violently she nearly tumbles off the bed, her hair in disarray and her eyes wild as she scrambles to sit up. “Mum?”

 

Watching her fondly, River nods. “I’m here, my love.”

 

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Raven shakes her curls from her face and stares down at her, awestruck. “It wasn’t a dream.”

 

“Afraid not.” River waggles her fingers at her, offering a hesitant smile. The last time she’d seen her little girl, she’d been a little bit of a thing and now she’s a grown woman. She can’t help but flounder, lost and uncertain. “Hello.”

 

Breaking into a wide grin, Raven laughs out loud and dives for her. Slender arms wrap tightly around her and dark, spiraling curls obscure her vision. River only hesitates for a moment before returning the embrace and as Raven buries her face in her neck and sniffles, River remembers with sudden clarity what it is to be a mother. Like that first time she’d held her daughter in her arms and fell in love.

 

“Mum,” Raven breathes. “I’ve missed you.”

 

“I’ve missed you too.” Finding the Doctor’s soft gaze over her shoulder, River smiles. “Both of you.”

 

-

 

One would think returning from the dead and having a physical body again would be enough of an adjustment but River Song never does anything by halves – least of all a resurrection. She has a grown daughter to contend with, one who has spent so long without her that she has begun to idolize her. River doesn’t quite know how to tell her she’ll never measure up to the mother she remembers. And then there is her husband who seems scarcely willing to let her out of his sight.

 

Raven and the Doctor both tend to hover, as though she’ll disappear if they let her go too far on her own. It’s easy to understand why they’re both so clingy but River is a woman who needs her space. And if she doesn’t get it soon, she’s going to shoot something. So she waits until Raven has gone to work and the Doctor is preoccupied with the TARDIS – preparing to take his wife and daughter on a trip – before she slips away.

 

She doesn’t want to risk going into the city and running into someone who knows she isn’t supposed to be alive. If the council ever discovers Raven had made use of both the teleports and the Gallifreyan Matrix in order to resurrect her dead mother, they’ll banish her from the whole damn planet and not even the Doctor will be able to stop them. So she heads for the forest and keeps walking.

 

The only thing stopping River from being delighted her daughter had turned out to be such a cunning rule breaker is _who_ she had broken the rules with. She isn’t hypocritical enough to want to forbid her daughter from hanging out with murderers but she could have at least had the decency not to choose the Doctor’s oldest friend – the _other_ psychopath in his life. If any madwoman should have raised Raven Song it should have been River.

 

Gritting her teeth against the childish, jealous snarl that bubbles in her throat, River curls her hands into fists and stalks further into the trees. She would never show Raven just how much Missy’s presence in her life irks at her – or the Doctor for that matter – but out here, alone and itching for something to hurt, she can admit it to herself. “Probably taught her how to drown kittens,” she grumbles, glaring at the trees and stomping deliberately over wildflowers. “And who do you think she went out and taunted Sontarans with on her hundredth birthday?”

 

“Why, Aunt Missy, of course.”

 

Whirling at the feminine, Scottish voice, River’s hand drops to her hip and the gun that isn’t there. She’s really going to have to do something about that soon. It feels like she’s missing a limb. Twitching her fingers against her thigh, River narrows her eyes at her unwelcome intruder and says, “I wondered when you’d show yourself. I must admit I thought you would give me a little more time. Eager, aren’t you?”

 

“Only to meet the womb from which your darling spawn sprung.” Missy inclines her head with a little sniff, eyes narrowed. “The hair is even bigger than she said.”

 

River stares, unimpressed. “What do you want? Out with it.”

 

“Want?” She blinks at her innocently. “What makes you think I want anything but your darling wee self all restored and stinking of books?”

 

Her fingers twitch again and River wishes once more for something to _hurt_ her with. A fist will work just fine if she gets close enough. “My daughter may believe you helped her out of the goodness of your shriveled hearts but I know nothing is ever that simple with you.”

 

“You know _nothing_ about me.”

 

River smiles coolly. “One doesn’t need to know the devil to understand her nature.”

 

Releasing a bright, pleased cackle, Missy claps her hands once and says, “Oh, how lovely. It’s always nice when there’s someone paying attention.” When River only blinks at her in reply, she sighs and waves a careless hand. “Oh alright. There’s an uprising in the works.”

 

“Here?” She frowns, surprised. “But the Doctor hasn’t said anything about -”

 

“Of course he hasn’t.” Missy rolls her eyes, sighing. “Ever since you buggered off and died, he’s had his unfortunate gray head up his arse. He doesn’t give a toss about political unrest. He doesn’t give a toss about anything. Which is why Rassilon has finally gathered enough of his ickle followers to wrest power away from him.”

 

River’s jaw tightens. “No.”

 

“ _Yes_.” Missy grins at her and sways forward. “And it won’t be difficult since your idiot husband hasn’t stepped a foot into the city in years. He’s not exactly been performing his duties – bit more concerned with looking after the poppet and weeping over your metaphorical grave.”

 

“I won’t let them take over again,” River snaps. “He has me now and I’ll drag him out kicking and screaming if I have to.”

 

Missy tilts her head and eyes her for a moment, shrugging. “Not a bad thought. I always like to start with screaming.”

 

River ignores her. “And may I ask why you care?”

 

“The Doctor may be a useless lump of a president but he’s certainly a toss better than Rassilon. Not even I want him back.” She sniffs, pulling a loose pin from her hair and tucking it back in, smoothing her coif with a few red-tipped fingers. “So I needed you.”

 

Narrowing her eyes, River frowns at her. “Why?”

 

“Well, who better to have on your side in a power struggle against a Time Lord if not a trained killer of the entire species?” Eyes gleaming, Missy smiles at her and for once it looks genuine. Manic and unhinged, but genuine. “The hybrid destined to stand in the ruins?” She shivers, licking her red lips. “Rassilon will wet himself.”

 

River raises an eyebrow, eyeing her disdainfully. “And you think we’ll just hold hands and stop him together?”

 

“Wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole, half-breed.” Missy winks. “But you’ll do this. You owe me. For being such a good mummy to your little tot and teaching her how to save you.”

 

Fuming, River bites back a snarl and curls her hands so tightly she can feel her nails biting into her palms. The only thing stopping her from crossing the distance between them and ripping out the woman’s throat is Raven’s face once she found out. She manages a tight, restrained smile and says quietly, “I don’t owe you anything, you deranged Mary Poppins.” Missy affects a little gasp at that, lower lip sticking out. “And if my daughter didn’t actually care about you, I’d kill you right here and bury you among the trees. No one would miss you.”

 

“Except your little girl.”

 

River grits her teeth. “Yes. So I’ll help you and everyone else stop Rassilon from taking back his power. I’ll destroy him if I have to. It won’t be for you – it will be for them. My family. The family you’re going to stop meddling with if you don’t want to meet the same slow, painful end Rassilon is going to.” She smiles brightly and raises her brows. “Are we clear, _Missy_?”

 

She barely reacts, except for the slow, gleeful smile that spreads over her face as she gazes admiringly at River. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

 

-

 

The Doctor is waiting for her when she finally emerges from the forest, sitting on a wooden swing hanging from the branch of a tree in the yard. She imagines he must have put it up for Raven when she was a girl and it’s somewhat of a comfort to know their daughter hadn’t been left entirely in the hands of Missy.

 

He looks up as she approaches, raising his head from his hands, and the relief that floods his features at the sight of her makes her feel inexplicably guilty. It’s ridiculous – she had only gone for a walk. What had he expected her to do? Steal someone else’s time machine and leave him and Raven? She sighs, ushering him to scoot over and make room for her on the swing.

 

“I only went for a walk,” she says quietly, though he hasn’t said a word. His unhappiness is still audible.

 

The Doctor huffs and she lets him take her hand. “You could have mentioned _before_ you left.”

 

“Why? So you could come with me?” She watches him look away and sighs. “Sweetie, I understand why you’re so eager to hover but you’ve got to stop smothering me or I’ll return the favor. With a pillow in your sleep.”

 

His mouth twitches into a smile and he nods once, studying their entwined hands. “Apologies, Professor,” he murmurs. “You’ll have to be patient with an old man. Still getting used to it.”

 

“It?”

 

“Feeling whole again,” he admits, looking reluctant. Like he’d be blushing if this body of his did such a thing. “It’s not an easy thing, after all this time walking about with half of me missing.”

 

River blinks quickly, pursing her lips. She turns her face into his shoulder and presses a kiss against the velvety softness of his coat. “About as easy as discovering my daughter doesn’t need me any longer, I imagine. The last time I saw her she still wanted me to read to her. And now she’s all grown up – raised by some _other_ psychopath.”

 

The Doctor bristles. “First of all, a girl always needs her mum. And secondly, I am not a psychopath. I’m grumpy and Scottish.”

 

She rolls her eyes. “I’m talking about Missy, you idiot. She’s been there all Raven’s life, got all the important milestones like taking her out hunting Sontarans and teaching her how to build atomic weapons and I’ve missed _everything_.”

 

The Doctor stares at her, still gripping her hand, and works his jaw in silence for a long moment. Finally he snaps, “Christ, you’re an oblivious idiot when you’re emotional. Don’t ever grumble about _my_ emotions getting in the way. You’re _worse_.”

 

She blinks at him. “Sorry?”

 

“What about that twit screams _maternal_ to you?” He asks dryly, raising an eyebrow. “Missy has hardly been a motherly influence. She’s more like the mad aunt who keeps escaping the sanitarium to visit on holidays.”

 

Snorting quietly, River shrugs. “I’m certain I wouldn’t have been exactly motherly either.”

 

“Stop being an idiot.” He nudges her, frowning. “I’m the idiot in this relationship. Too late to go changing roles willy-nilly. Have you forgotten the twenty-four years we did get to raise her together? Because I haven’t and you were a fucking brilliant mother. And you will be again.”

 

River nods slowly, biting her lip.

 

The Doctor squeezes her hand. “And you haven’t missed everything, dear. She’s only 125 – barely out of her stroppy teenage phase. Plenty more to come. First regeneration. Marriage. We might even get grandchildren.”

 

Smiling softly at that, River admits, “I think I’d like a grandchild.”

 

The Doctor hums, turning his head to kiss her temple. “Me too. In another few hundred years. Give or take.”

 

She laughs at the scowl in his voice and kisses his shoulder again, pausing briefly to breathe him in. He smells better than even her diary had been able to replicate, like time and coffee grounds and pine. As the scent of him fills her lungs, she feels her throat close up and she shuts her eyes, tightening her grip on his hand. “I feel it too,” she whispers.

 

Nose buried in her hair, the Doctor enquires, “Hmm?”

 

“Whole.”

 

When she takes him by the hand and leads him to their bed, it reminds her of their first time all over again. His hands tremble when he undresses her and his kiss carries just a touch of desperation. River cards her fingers through his gray hair and tries to tell him without words that he doesn’t have to be afraid of losing her anymore. They fall into bed already tangled together. Where River’s hands are sure and steady, touching with tender reassurance, the Doctor touches to bruise, to mark, to affirm there isn’t a ghost in his bed. River wraps her legs and her arms around him and lets him drown in her, whispering his name against the shell of his ear until he shudders and spills inside her, gasping into her hair.

 

He doesn’t wait to catch his breath, his hand slipping between their bodies, between her thighs, to stroke her clit. Hips jerking, River clings to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, and meets his resolute gaze in the dark. It doesn’t take her long to climax, not with his rough fingertips pressing against her sex, not with him still softening inside her and her body still aching pleasantly everywhere he’s touched. She comes with a sharp, wordless cry, his lips tender against her hairline and his fingers slick between her thighs.

 

They lie together in the bed that is once again theirs and stroke bare skin, smiling at each other in the fading light of day. River nestles close against him and the Doctor tucks her wild hair behind her ears, stroking his hand down the length of her back. His hand stops just over the curve of her arse and she wants nothing more than to pin him beneath her and have her way with him again but there are things that still need to be said.

 

Pressing her lips against his chest, she confesses quietly, “They’re trying to bring Rassilon into power again – Missy wants to make use of my Time Lord expertise to stop him.”

 

In the middle of tracing Gallifreyan symbols for love and time into her skin, he mutters, “I thought that might be it.”

 

River stiffens, leaning back to stare at him. “You know? About Rassilon?”

 

He scoffs. “I’m Lord President, River. Of course I know.”

 

“Well, what are you doing to stop him?”

 

He shrugs, staring over her shoulder and hedging, “Nothing yet.”

 

She clenches her teeth, giving him a hard stare. Who is this man? Her Doctor would never sit idly by and let someone like Rassilon anywhere near one bloody drop of power. _This is what he’s become_ , her mind whispers with a hint of pity, _without you_. She softens, watching him helplessly. “What are you waiting for, sweetie?”

 

Sighing, he rolls onto his back and glares at the ceiling. “For someone else to take up the mantle. You know I never wanted this responsibility. I came here to give Raven a home around people like her. _She_ was my priority, not -” He waves an angry hand around them. “Everyone else. She needed me. It wasn’t the same without you but I damn well tried.”

 

“Well, our daughter is all grown up now, Doctor.” She cups his cheek until he huffs and looks at her. “You did beautifully, honey. She’s clever and kind and everything we could have wanted. But you’ve got to find new ways to occupy your time now.”

 

“I’ve _got_ something,” he grumbles, looking petulant. “You.”

 

“Looking for a third honeymoon, are you?” She smiles when he raises an interested brow at her. Walking her fingertips up his chest and watching him swallow, she purrs, “You know what I think is the perfect way to start?”

 

He grasps her hand, kissing her knuckles. “Tell me.”

 

She beams. “Stopping a government overthrow.”

 

When he presses her into the mattress with a playful growl and makes her laugh out loud, River knows with relief in her hearts that her Doctor is well on his way to coming back to her and she to him. Just another few moments lost in each other, getting used to being whole again.

 

-

 

At twilight, she hears Raven slip into the house and she leaves the Doctor sleeping, dressing in the dim light of their bedroom. By the time she pads down the stairs and into the kitchen, Raven is pouring tea into two mugs. River pauses uncertainly in the doorway. “Are you expecting someone?”

 

Raven looks up with a beaming smile and River doesn’t quite know what to do with such raw happiness all for her. “Just you, Mum. Do you still take yours with honey?”

 

Blinking at her, River takes a cautious step into the room and nods. “I – yes. You remember that?”

 

“Time Lord memory,” she says, mixing the honey in and sliding the mug across the table. River takes the last few steps into the kitchen and sinks into a chair at the table, quite aware that she’s staring at her daughter like some sort of lost, mysterious remnant on a dig but unable to stop herself. “I remember all sorts of things.”

 

River looks down uneasily and takes a slow sip of her tea. “In that case,” she mutters around a mouthful, “I apologize.”

 

Raven shoots her a look, wrapping her hands around her mug – small hands, River notices, but capable. A bit like her own. She wonders if Raven would be interested in archaeology or if she’d wrinkle her nose the way the Doctor does if she suggested a trip to a dig site. “What for?”

 

“I wasn’t exactly mother material,” she admits, gazing into her tea like maybe it will give her the right words to say if she just concentrates long enough. “I certainly tried but your father was the natural -”

 

Raven laughs and River glances up at her in surprise, finding her daughter watching her with familiar, fond blue eyes. “You really are daft when you’re emotional, just like Dad always said.”

 

Frowning, River plucks at the tea bag in her mug and mutters, “Like he has any room to talk. Idiot.”

 

Snorting, Raven reaches across the table and covers River’s hand with her own. River inhales, staring fixedly at their nearly identical hands, and feels a lump form in her throat. “You were a brilliant mum. Scarily protective but brilliant. I still remember those shooting lessons – you wouldn’t let me give up until I hit my mark. And you loved it when I asked questions, especially clever ones. Your bedtime stories were the best.”

 

“The bloodiest,” River mumbles, blinking back tears. “I could have scarred you for life with some of those.”

 

“I’m a bit tougher than that, Mum. You made sure of it.” Raven smiles gently, squeezing her hand. “You know what I remember most? What I’ve clung to for all these years? I remember falling asleep every night feeling loved very much.” She shrugs, the way her father does when he’s trying to pretend he isn’t being an emotional idiot. “My favorite times were spent on Darillium with you and Dad. And so were his – I haven’t seen him that happy since then. Except when I brought you back.”

 

River offers her daughter a wobbly smile, overcome with just how proud she is of her darling girl – so much stronger than she could ever have hoped for. “I’m sorry, little bird,” she whispers. “I’m sorry I left you.”

 

“Don’t be silly, Mum.” Raven smiles tearfully, entwining their fingers on the table between them. “You were always here to me.”

 

“Your father’s daughter,” River murmurs, stroking her thumb over Raven’s knuckles fondly. She clears her throat, glancing away and struggling to compose herself. When she trusts her voice not to wobble and embarrass her, she says, “I suppose we have a lot of catching up to do.”

 

Raven nods, still grinning. “Plenty of time now.”

 

“Especially with a time machine in the backyard.” River straightens in her chair, lifting a brow. “Has anyone taught you how to steal it yet?”

 

She expects her daughter to nod and launch into a story about Aunt Missy but instead, Raven brightens and shakes her head, dark curls slipping into her eyes and bouncing around her shoulders. “No,” she gasps quietly. Then her face morphs into an expression River remembers clearly on a much smaller little girl, pleading for just one more story. “Oh, can we, Mum? _Please_?”

 

Glancing overhead, where the Doctor still sleeps in their bed soundly, worn out and thoroughly shagged, River smiles. “Perhaps just a quick trip.” She taps the side of her nose. “Don’t tell Dad.”

 

As mother and daughter sneak out of the house, the sun has settled low in the sky, still peeking over the horizon as the stars begin to gleam. River lets her daughter skip ahead, lingering in the doorway of the TARDIS and remembering the warm light of dawn on Darillium and a hushed exchange.

 

_She can’t have both._

_She might. Someday._

 

It had been a promise kept after all.


End file.
